


Makoto's Hand

by Miss_Murdered



Series: MakoHaru Festival Ficlets [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Drabble, M/M, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Murdered/pseuds/Miss_Murdered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble about how Makoto holds Haru’s hand. A short drabble for the MakoHaru festival on tumblr based on the prompt "holding hands".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Makoto's Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don't own Free!  
> Beta'd by ELLE who gets a big thanks for being super speedy and beta'ing outside her fandom.

In the darkness of Haru’s bedroom, blue eyes shot open, suddenly very awake as he realised that they’d both fallen asleep and Makoto should’ve gone home hours ago.

However, despite his initial urgency – that Makoto’s parents were becoming more strict, more insistent and even a little bit suspicions – Haru settled back down into his pillow, his sudden movement not having woken Makoto. But then very little did – it took rain and thunder to do that and even then, that was rare.

They’d fallen asleep – their pretence of studying quickly being dropped for kisses and touching and grinding together until they were exhausted – and they curled up on the bed together, intending to just rest, not fall asleep as they had. But Haru didn’t mind this moment – watching Makoto sleep, his soft breathing ruffling his hair – as he didn’t regret any time they spent together, sneaking around, pretending to be merely best friends still.

He smiled softly as he felt Makoto’s hand still in his own as even in sleep their fingers had been entwined – connecting them even while they dreamt.

As Haru lay beside Makoto, he felt the way his hand always felt warmer than his own skin, how they were larger than his and how he could feel that deep scar from fishing once when they were little boys. 

His hands, that cut through the water, that touched him on the back subtly in company and less so in private, were like Makoto – strong and gentle at the same time. And Haru liked that – especially when they walked home from school and no one was watching and Makoto  _knew_ , knew then they were safe and he would carefully slide their fingers together, lacing them with Haru’s.

Haru knew he should wake Makoto, tell him to grab his clothes and books and go home, but instead he raised their joined fingers to his lips, kissed that scar from the fishing hook and settled back to sleep, holding Makoto’s hand.


End file.
